Turn, Turn, Turn
by Albus Paulson
Summary: An aftercanon story. We know that the hero becomes the wise old man but how, and who influences it? Just an idea...


**Turn, Turn, Turn**

By Albus Paulson

_For everything there is a season, And a time for every matter under heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; A time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; A time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together; A time to embrace, And a time to refrain from embracing; A time to seek, and a time to lose; A time to keep, and a time to throw away; A time to tear, and a time to sew; A time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate, A time for war, and a time for peace._

_**Ecclesiastes 3:1-8**_

* * *

"Andreas Nikolajsen," the one said, testing the unfamiliar name on his tongue.

"_Ja, _Andreas," said the other, a broad smile on his face. "His parents died a few years back. I have been keeping an eye on his… what do you call it? Schooling? Yes, that's the word. Anyway, I've been watching his progress."

"Hmmm." The one tugged at his greying moustache. "And you have contacted me, Gabriel, because…"

The one called Gabriel harrumphed. "You are the _Memuneh_, Mr Potter, the master of dreams and through dreams, of men. No matter that your friend Her – Herm – er, Minister Granger-Weasley is the one in charge of Britain now, you are the one with power."

Mr Potter chuckled. "Hermione wouldn't appreciate that being said of her. She has worked hard to make Britain a good place once more."

"She has succeeded." Gabriel was smiling again.

"She will never think so, no matter what I – or Ron – tell her."

Gabriel shrugged as if to say, _so be it._

"You said something about a… Andreas? Andreas Nikolajsen?"

"Ah, that I did." He shuffled amid yellowing folders and old, coming-apart scrolls. "Here we are!" he said, showing a relatively new folder – with a name in new ink on its front.

"You said his parents died?"

"Yes, yes, they did. His mother – Hanna – lost a battle with cancer two years ago, and his father – Nikolaj – committed suicide not long after."

"Oh dear." A flinch crossed Mr Potter's face.

"Indeed, so."

"Who has cared for Andreas, if not his parents?"

"His grandmother was appointed to be his guardian, but she died of old age last week."

"Oh dear." Another flinch.

"Indeed, so."

"This still begs the question, Gabriel: why would you ask for me? I retired last year, and was rather hoping to spend time with my grandsons today."

"You are the _Memuneh_, Harry Potter. To Dane or Englishman, Jew or gentile, wizard or Muggle – those in the secret services, anyway – you are always the one we come to."

"All right, you have answered why you asked for me. Now, Gabriel Amundsen," Gabriel gulped at his icy tone, "Please, tell me why you needed to call at all." Mr Potter stared into his eyes, making him distinctly uncomfortable.

"Ah." Gabriel tugged at his collar. "He has no relatives that we can find. Being only thirteen, Andreas is hardly of an age to go out into the world for himself. There are… special circumstances around and about him than means he cannot be placed with just anyone."

Harry Potter nodded, not yet appeased. "Special circumstances?"

"Are you familiar with the goblins' methods of determining a wizard's power level?"

Mr Potter blinked at the apparent non sequitur. "If it is the one that is similar to the Muggle I.Q. tests, where 100 is average, then, yes, I am."

"Yes, that's the one." Gabriel gulped. "Andreas scored at 140."

"Dumbledore and Voldemort scored at 120 each, and I at 135," Mr Potter collapsed into his chair.

"You see now why I asked for you?"

"Yes, I do – thank you, Gabriel, thank you very much." Mr Potter gulped. "What do you propose?"

0

"Where am I going?" asked the teen in thick, accented English.

"Britain."

The teen glared. "I meant more specifically."

"England."

"Now, that's better."

A long pause.

"Where in England?"

"Kid, shut your trap," the escort growled.

"Touchy, touchy. Is it my fault that Mr Amundsen forgot to neglected to me of my new guardian's name?"

"Yes, probably, given that you were in such a hurry to leave the hotel."

The teen stewed for a long moment.

"Where in England?" he repeated.

The escort groaned. "Kid, I'm just here to make sure you don't kill yourself and that someone doesn't kill you. I'm not privy to the coordinates of where we're going, any more than you are."

"Right."

"Mission top secret, my arse," muttered the escort, too low for the teen to hear. "I just knew Amundsen and Lupin were up to something, the ones handpicked by Old Man Potter always are…"

0

"Do you think I've done the right thing, Ginny?"

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "You are most qualified. Who else knows how to handle the sudden fluctuations in power? Who else has experience with temperamental, highly skilled wizards?"

The silence stretched on, from the one, mutinous, and from the other, smug.

"Precisely," she broke it, and smirked, knowing that she'd won.

He groaned. "You always win."

"And you try to argue anyway. Don't worry, Harry, it's endearing."

"I would hope so."

A long moment passed.

"Do you think he'll get along with Henry and Thomas?"

"Harry! Quit worrying! Andreas will fit in with all of us just fine!"

"Yes, dear." He sighed. "I only wish that I was as certain as you."

0

"Are we over the Channel yet?"

The escort moaned. "It was a mistake to fly in the Muggle way from Hamburg."

"Yes, it was," the teen said cheerily, "but you haven't answered by question, yet."

"You'll be waiting awhile. I'm not looking out the window again."

"Come on!"

"No, kid. No. I'm queasy enough with the pitch and the yaw. I don't need thousands of feet between me and the ground to make it worse."

"I told you that you should have gotten those ginger tablets. They're supposed to work."

"Damn you, Lupin," wheezed the escort. "Damn you, Amundsen. Damn you, Potter. Damn all of you for getting me into this."

A pause.

"What about me?"

A longer pause.

"D-Damn you too, kid."

"Thank you. Nice to know that I won't be forgotten."

The escort whimpered.

0

"Henry! Thomas!"

The twin teenagers immediately stopped their sneaking in the hall and assumed a practiced look of innocence. "Yes, Grandfather?"

The old man rolled his eyes. "I was just going to ask you if you were washing up, but now I don't want to know what you were doing, so long as I or our guest isn't the target."

"Don't worry," said one black-haired boy.

"We won't prank you today," said the other one, identical to the first.

"And Andreas? He'll be stressed out enough, boys, don't be too hard on him." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "You can change his hair color. Nothing more."

"All right!" said the twins in unison.

"All right what?" asked a new voice.

The old man oriented on it. "Albus. I thought you said you had work to do at the Ministry?"

Albus – a man identical to the one called Grandfather, down to the green eyes and messy hair – entered, his lips pressed to a thin line. "I do. I'm on lunch break, Dad, in case you've lost track of the time."

"Ah. That makes sense now." He stood up straighter. "He'll be here soon…" And he left with that, his robe fluttering behind him.

Albus shook his head. "Some days I wonder at my father…"

"Oh?" said one twin.

"He's not as nuts has he likes to seem," said the other.

"He acts like it so that people will underestimate him."

"And I've got to say, Dad, that you're falling into that trap."

Albus blinked. "Maybe you're right. Both of you."

0

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"Are we there yet?"

A long pause. The teen perked up, hopeful.

"No, and if you say that again I'll hex you."

He slunk back into his seat, disappointed.

A longer pause, this time broken by the rhythmic tapping of the teenager's fingers.

"Bored, bored, I'm so bored," he chanted in beat to his fingers. "Bored, bored, I'm so bored."

The escort's fingers gripped his armrests as if he were expecting them to run away.

"Damn you, damn you, damn you." Then, he looked out the window – by accident – and his nausea returned.

After that, all he could do was stare at his shoes, even when the teen added a left hand to his round of bored rhythms.

0

"Please remove your seatbelts and exit as you are able. Thank you for flying…"

"We're there?" the teen shook himself out of a doze. "We're in Britain?"

"Just outside of London," said the escort. "Heathrow Airport."

"Where to from here?"

"I take you to the Ministry of Magic, where Lupin and I are going to be taking you to your guardian."

0

"Smith, Jones, Williams, Taylor, Hughes… ah, Lupin!"

The man called Lupin looked up, brushing his long brown hair from his face. Oddly deep-set purple eyes stared out at the teen from a cheery countenance. "Hi," said the man. "I'm Teddy Lupin."

"Er, Andreas Nikolajsen, at your service."

Lupin's eyes widened. "Ah. You are the one I'm to take to the _Memuneh_."

Andreas blinked. "The what?"

"The _Memuneh_. It's a Hebrew word we picked up from a few of the Aurors with Jewish backgrounds. It means the one in charge."

"And… who would that be?"

"Harry Potter."

It was Andreas' turn to be shocked. "I'm to be Harry Potter's ward?"

"Yes. He's my godfather," he whispered conspiratorially, completely ignoring the escort behind Andreas, "so I know him rather well. I think you'll like him."

"I hope so."

0

"What if he doesn't like me?"

"That's nonsense-"

"What if he wants to go back to Denmark, Ron?"

"That's even more-"

"What if I can't help him?"

"You can, Harry, it's why-"

"What if he can't stand the rest of the Potters?"

"Now that's a possibility – if he doesn't have a sense of humor. Relax, old friend. You can do this. You've fought creatures scarier than this."

Harry took a deep breath. "You really think so?"

"I know so."

0

Andreas held tight to Teddy Lupin's arm, eyes squeezed shut.

He felt Lupin chuckle beside him. "Don't worry, kid," he said, "Side-Along Apparition's not that bad."

He relaxed a little bit and said, "When do we have clearance to go?"

"Now," Lupin said with a smirk, before all was darkness.

0

They appeared with a 'pop' on the lawn.

Andreas looked around. None of the people here looked heroic enough to be the great Harry Potter. They weren't ordinary – that was obvious by the twin boys shoving ice cubes down one another's backs – but they weren't… golden.

"Hi, Harry," said Lupin, smiling at the extended family before him.

"Hi, Teddy," said an older man with a long, greying black beard and moustache. Emerald eyes sparkled behind silver eyeglasses.

"This," Lupin gestured, "is Andreas Nikolajsen."

"Hello," said the man. "I'm Harry Potter." He walked closer to Andreas, about halfway, and extended a hand.

Andreas gaped a moment. The Harry Potter, coming closer to him and extending an offer of comradeship? Wasn't he the _Memuneh_, the Savior, the Chosen One?

He forced himself to close the distance, and shook Harry's hand.

His blue eyes met Harry's green, and he knew then that it would be all right.

* * *

**_Author's Notes:_**

**_Another of my challenges. Feel free to keep writing this; just tell me, so that I can see it too!_**

**_The idea for this story is that Harry has gone from the primary hero to the senex, the wise old man figure. Think Dumbledore, Obi-Wan, Gandalf, Brom, etc. Andreas is the Harry Potter of this story._**

**_Thanks for reading!_**

**_Albus Paulson_**


End file.
